


Pride (Part II)

by Reija



Series: The Two Kings [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Battle of Five Armies, Battle of Five Armies Aftermath, Battle of Five Armies Angst, Battle of Five Armies Extended Edition, Battle of Five Armies Feels, Betrayal, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Canon Universe, Canon-Compliant Battle of Five Armies, Denial, F/M, Family Feels, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Battle of Five Armies, Redemption, Serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reija/pseuds/Reija
Summary: After the Dwarves escape from Mirkwood, the two Kings do not meet again face to face.  But Thranduil's heart has been touched by their meeting, and the events that follow leave him a changed man.An expanded retelling of the events of BotFA through Thorin's funeral.A continuation of "Pride," but with a heavier tone.  Part of a Thorin x Thranduil series.
Relationships: Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Thorin Oakenshield & Thranduil, Thorin Oakenshield/Thranduil, Thranduil & Thranduil's Wife
Series: The Two Kings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819912
Kudos: 7





	1. The Thwarted King

Thranduil was in a terrible mood. Everyone had noticed this, due to the near-constant eye rolls and exaggerated sighs, though none of the court knew what to do about the King’s current state. Legolas looked at his father with concern, but there was no way around it. He had to say something—perhaps when they finished interrogating the prisoner in front of them.

But he was taken aback when the Elvenking unexpectedly drew his sword and sliced the captive Orc’s neck in one swift movement, cutting off the latter’s mocking laughter. He looked down at the detached head still in his hand, as the body fell unceremoniously onto the floor with a dull thud. 

“Why did you do that? You promised to set him free.”

The Elves had vowed to grant mercy to all those who asked, and Legolas could not believe that his father had dismissed this pledge so lightly.

“And I did,” the King replied coolly. “I freed his wretched head from his miserable shoulders.” He placed the heel of his boot on the corpse’s neck, for it still lay twitching, like a snake cut into pieces. Moments later, the movement ceased.

Legolas stared at his father in shock, as the latter sheathed his sword, not bothering to wipe off the thick black blood before returning it to its scabbard. The King turned to leave the chamber.

“I want the watch doubled at our borders. All roads, all rivers—nothing moves but I hear of it. No one enters this kingdom, and no one leaves it.”

He left the Elven Prince standing with the wretched body as guards closed in to clean up the mess. Legolas shook his head, for his father was behaving in a way he did not recognize, but turned to follow his command as he sought out the guards at the gate. The conversation would have to wait. And where _was_ Tauriel?

* * *

Back in his chambers, Thranduil could not hide his annoyance at the entire situation. Orcs had crossed the borders into his lands, the black filth of Mordor would rise again, and _his own son_ seemed oddly obsessed with the lowly Sylvan captain, for Legolas had gone off to follow the insubordinate Tauriel, who had left the kingdom to chase after those wretched Dwarves against his explicit decree.

And those Dwarves! That was the most irritating to him of all. He had been so close that night to taking what was his. But to be perfectly honest, their unexpected escape had piqued his interest. How very disingenuous of them to utilize the hatch down to the waterway, though only fools would throw themselves into barrels and hope to survive the rapids. It was a risky proposition, but he hoped that the Dwarf King would survive, for he knew that the company was being hunted by Azog’s forces. Thranduil found himself wishing for another meeting with Thorin. Perhaps they had more to talk about . . . after he had had his way with him, of course.

But for now, there was nothing for him to do but wait for news. And despite his many years on Middle Earth, Thranduil had never been good with waiting.


	2. The Mountain King

Thorin fell to his knees in bewilderment. He had watched the great beast fall from the skies, as if shot by an invisible arrow. He could not believe that their quest was almost at its end. He had led his kinsmen through so much, and had almost given up all hope time and time again, but fortune seemed to be in his favor at last. For he was now King under the Mountain, Lord of Erebor, and of all the treasures that filled its vast halls.

But the jewel that would grant him the undeniable right to rule remained elusive. It would have to be found, for without it, others would surely attempt to lay claim on his treasure. He wondered if the Elvenking was as greedy as he was prideful. Would Thranduil march up to his gate and demand a claim to his treasure? There was something he, too, had sought. Thorin recalled the other’s words about white gems of Starlight, strung on silver.

Ah! The White Gems of Lasgalen. He remembered seeing them once before, as his grandfather had boasted of using them to bend the Elvenking of Mirkwood to his will. That wasn’t a bad idea. He could use them as bait, to lure Thranduil to his doors . . .

But why? He didn’t need the King’s assistance anymore. Thorin Oakenshield had fulfilled his own destiny without the aid of anyone. Not that the Elves had been of any help—in fact, they had done little more than to slow down their journey and cause them injury. And the _terrible_ food! Thorin shuddered at the memory of tables heaped with greens at Rivendell, and the unsatisfying meatless dishes they had received in their cells only three times a day as they remained captive in Mirkwood.

No. He had no need for Thranduil anymore, for he now had a kingdom of his own right. Thorin imagined the look on the Elvenking’s face when he would step into the mountain’s Great Hall at his invitation, and relished the envy that would certainly arise when he saw the riches that Thorin now commanded. Jealousy might make the man even more beautiful. He could even use the King’s precious white gems to extract certain . . . _favors_ , he was sure of it. He smirked at the images that ran through his head, pausing at a delicious vision of Thranduil on his knees in front of him, his rough hands forcibly grabbing the other man’s long, silken hair. _He couldn’t wait._

But first, he had a kingdom to rebuild, and above all, the Arkenstone _must_ be found.


	3. The Confrontation

Thranduil rolled his eyes at the news. So, the Men of Laketown had managed to bring down the dragon, and with Smaug removed, the small company of Dwarves were now holed up in the mountain they had so long desired. It seemed that Thorin Oakenshield now had a domain to rule, as well as all the treasures of the land. But there was only one treasure he himself coveted. The Dwarf King knew of his claim on the White Gems of Lasgalen. If he did not make an offer to return his precious heirlooms, then Thranduil would have no choice but to retrieve them himself.

“Gather food and supplies for the people of Laketown. It seems they are in need of aid, and we may well need their alliance should reason fall on deaf ears. Ready my steed. We make for Dale in the morning.”

* * *

As the Elvenking rode up to the mountain gate on his magnificent Great Elk, he became acutely aware of the quickened pace of his heartbeat. It had been weeks since he saw the Dwarf King, shabby and threadbare in pauper’s clothing, and he wondered how he would now look dressed as King. There was a hint of excitement, but also anticipation, and perhaps more than a little trepidation, for Thranduil loathed the thought of war and what it would do to his people.

Though he had vowed to retrieve his treasures by any means, he knew his wife would have been saddened by the thought of Elven blood shed in the name of her memory. But memory was all he had of her, and oftentimes those memories were still too painful for him to face. He would bring home her jewels and keep them close to his heart, for he had failed to protect her in life. It was too late for him to give his life in her place, but he was prepared to die for her memory.

Suddenly, an arrow landed in front of his steed. He looked up quickly. There was Thorin, with an arrow aimed straight at his heart.

“I will put the next one between your eyes, Elf.”

Thranduil did not recognize the Dwarf King at first, for the look in his eyes was not what he remembered. There, under the dark brows, was the unmistakable madness brought on by treasure. Gold sickness.

His heart sank, for he knew that this was not the Thorin Oakenshield he had met. He did not doubt that the Dwarf King no longer remembered much of their meeting, for his mind had become twisted, consumed by obsession. Gazing up at the other man, he felt sorrow that they had not had a chance to meet again in better circumstances, for the King who stood on the rampart was now a stranger.

Yet Thranduil knew he could not let his feelings show, not now. He was here for another purpose today.

“We’ve come to tell you that payment of your debt has been offered and accepted,” he said, voice confident and betraying none of the hurt he felt within.

The rugged face glared back at him, hatred burning in his eyes. From that point on, things escalated quickly. In a matter of moments, the Dwarf King had his hands around the neck of the Hobbit burglar, and was attempting to throw him from the rampart while raging on about betrayal and broken trust. The company of Men and Elves looked on from below in horror.

Suddenly, the Grey Wizard appeared, passing between Thranduil and Bard’s mounts, and walked up to address the Dwarves directly.

“If you don’t like my burglar, then please don’t damage him. Return him to me. You’re not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thráin?”

Thranduil closed his eyes. He knew that the gears of war had now been set in motion, and bloodshed was unavoidable. A small tear glistened on his cheek in the sunlight as he prepared his heart for what was to come.


	4. The Reckoning

There was _so much blood_. Even in the cold of winter, the smell was sickening. Men, children, Orcs, and Elves lay entwined in piles, limbs jutting out at impossible angles. The injured were so badly maimed that death would have been a blessing. Thranduil cursed his heart, for facing death and destruction had been far easier when he felt nothing. Stone made for effective armor against the pain of reality.

As he stepped through the aftermath of the battle at Dale, he could not believe how many of his brethren he had allowed to perish. Suddenly, the pursuit of the gems seemed so insignificant. How could he have been so foolhardy? He knew his beloved would have been heartbroken at the sight that lay in front of him. It had not been a battle, it was _slaughter._ The townspeople had been ambushed, and even the elderly lay among the dead, ineffective weapons in their hands as they had attempted a futile defense.

He knew that his pride had led him down the wrong path when he placed his treasure above all else. It was time to return home and save the troops he had left. No more blood would be shed by his kind. They would no longer involve themselves in the dealings of other races. He found his commander at the town square, awaiting his direction.

“Recall your company. We leave at once.”

At the sound of the Elvish horn, Gandalf once again made an appearance. That accursed wizard! His incessant meddling had set off this entire series of events. The Dwarves were never meant to have succeeded in their quest, they were destined to fail. If it had not been for Gandalf and his “assistance”—

The wizard was pleading with him to stay, but Thranduil would not have it.

“My Lord, disperse this force to Ravenhill. The Dwarves are about to be overrun. Thorin must be warned.”

Thorin. A man he no longer recognized. He could not bear the sight of greed in his eyes, for he now smelled of avarice and bloodlust. He could not afford to get involved.

“By all means, warn him. I’ve spent enough Elvish blood in defense of this accursed land. No more!”

As he gathered his troops for retreat, Tauriel appeared. He had not seen the former captain of his guard since she left their realm many weeks ago. He had thought of her almost as a daughter at one point, for he had raised her under his protection for six hundred years. But she drew her arrow and pointed it straight at him, defiance in her eyes.

“You will not turn away. Not this time. You think your life is worth more than theirs, while there is no love in it? There is no love in you.”

He saw that she was holding back tears. But what did she know? She had not _lived_. She had not _loved_. She knew nothing of the world, and here she was, defying him openly. She, too, was lost to him. This was not the Tauriel he once trusted.

Anger and sadness took over, and he found himself slashing her bow in two.

“What do _you_ know of love? Nothing! What you feel for that Dwarf is not real. You think it is love? Are you ready to die for it?”

As he spoke those words, he wished that he had died, for he felt a crushing wave of sorrow. He could not bear to look at his son, who had come to stay his sword. He could not think of the fate that may have befallen Thorin Oakenshield. It was all too much.


	5. The Goodbye

The battle was over.

His son had survived, but was now lost to him, for something had stirred his heart, and he longed to seek out his own destiny. Or perhaps Legolas, too, could not face the destruction that had befallen their lands, and needed some escape. It hurt, but the King knew that it was time to let the young Prince go. There was something he wished to tell his son, for he knew not when he would see him again, but he could not yet find the words.

Tauriel, too, had survived. The Dwarf that she pined for had not. Thranduil found her in the snow, laying over the cold body of the Dwarf known as Kíli, shaking with tears. She would not let go of his hand, and she stroked it as if her touch could bring him back to life. The sight was heartbreaking. He knew it well. He would have been in her place, if he had been present when his wife was slain. He wished he could have held her body like this, for he knew he would never have wanted to let it go. He also thought of Thorin, for he had heard ominous rumors that the Dwarf King had been slain in battle. He was not yet ready to face that thought.

“If this is love, I do not want it. Take it from me, please! Why does it hurt so much?”

Tauriel sobbed, looking to the King for solace. He should not have spoken so harshly to her at Dale. He had lost a son, but he would not lose this daughter, blood or not. Pride be damned.

“Because it was real.”

He reached out to stroke her hair gently, for love was all he had left to offer her in comfort.

The snow continued to fall on the three figures as they mourned in silence, but the snowflakes that landed on Kíli did not melt away.

* * *

It took days to gather and bury the dead. The Elvenking sent troops to assist the Men of Laketown and the remaining Dwarves. He took it upon himself to see to the fallen Elves, blessing each of his soldiers with a gentle touch and a silent prayer to prepare their spirits for the Great Beyond. The cold had preserved the bodies well, but it brought a chill to the bones of the living. While the dead lay peacefully, those who remained behind bore the burden of heavy hearts.

They were to hold a funeral for King Thorin and his fallen kinsmen the next day. His sister-sons had not survived the battle, and Dáin Ironfoot was to take up the crown.

Bard of Laketown still had the Arkenstone, and he vowed to place it upon Thorin’s tomb, for it was only right for the Dwarf King to be buried with his greatest treasure. The Elves had confiscated Orcrist from their captives, and Thranduil wished to return it to the company. They did not invite him to attend the funeral, and he did not ask, for reasons of his own.

He still remembered Thorin the way he was, at their first meeting. The proud man who did not cower beneath his splendor, who spoke to him as equals despite the obvious disparity in height. The scent of spice upon his beard, and the way his hair fell wildly around his shoulders when he became enraged, and the fire that burned behind those dark eyes. What Thranduil had thought was mutual hatred and distaste had reawakened the passion that had been locked away for far too long, and finally he started to feel _alive_ again.

He kissed the blade before returning Orcrist to its scabbard, for he would send it with Bard for the burial. He would have kissed Thorin instead, but that moment had long passed, and would never return. The Dwarf he once saw as beneath him proved to be an equal, if only in death.

_Farewell, until we meet again in the Hall of Mandos. You have my word, from one King to another._

_~ Fin ~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last scene was inspired by beautiful imagery from another lovely work: Mourning the Fallen by Umi_no_arawashi
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24845152

**Author's Note:**

> My portrayal of Thorin and Thranduil's characters is based on the Peter Jackson Hobbit Trilogy (extended editions and supplemental film material), and specifically the portrayals of these characters by actors Richard Armitage and Lee Pace. All dialogue quoted is drawn from the movies with some rearrangement to fit within the narrative.
> 
> My philosophy is to keep the characters as canon to the movies as possible, exploring their potential internal feelings and motivations throughout the story without adding new major events or contradicting the established plot points of the movie.
> 
> For this reason, all works featuring these characters belong to a consistent sub-canon universe and can be read as part of a larger series.
> 
> However, in this universe, characters are not bound by rigid definitions of gender and sexuality, and these relationships are accepted without question or prejudice. Thranduil's love for his wife is no less changed by his growing attraction to a male from another race, and Thorin is no less masculine for his feelings in return, though we know little of his relationship with womenfolk. Wouldn't it be nice if the world were always like this? :)


End file.
